


The Layover

by AtoTheBean



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hot Chocolate, M/M, Pinto Bar Secret Santa 2014, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 16:39:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2819003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtoTheBean/pseuds/AtoTheBean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas Eve, and travel is not going according to plan...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not even Rudolf could help in this mess...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zilia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zilia/gifts).



> A secret santa prompt: snow, hot chocolate, cuddling.

"Any luck?" Chris asked when Zach wound his way back through the crowd to where he'd left Chris and their luggage.

Zach shook his head and held a finger up, attention back on his phone as the woman who had put him on hold returned.  "Nothing?  The Crown Room membership doesn't get me anything?"  Zach listened to the very apologetic woman on the other end of the line, trying to stay polite. "Okay, I understand.  Thank you for your time."  He shut off the phone and looked at Chris.  "So that's the Hilton, Hyatt, Marriott, Holiday Inn, Embassy Suites, Hampton Inn, La Quinta, and Residence Inn affiliates.  No vacancies.  I talked to that family that left a few minutes ago, and they just got the last room in the Motel 6 in some suburb twenty miles west of here.  Frankly, I think I'd rather camp out on the floor of O’Hare.  At least the bathrooms are clean."

Chris grimaced.  "Valerie has contacted about ten private hotels and a bunch of B&B's.  Nothing yet, but she apparently has a friend here that works for one, so she's seeing if they can squeeze us in.  I'm on hold.  Again.  Oh, shit," Chris said, looking over Zach's shoulder.  Zach followed his gaze to the television hanging from the ceiling.  He couldn't hear the weather report over the din of the room — angry people laden with gifts who were not going to reach grandma's house before Christmas, overtired kids crying for fear Santa wouldn't find them — but the weather radar made hearing unnecessary.  The storm that was supposed to stay in Canada hadn't, and was now stretched across three states and two Canadian provinces, pushed south by a high pressure system over Saskatchewan.  The good news was Christmas would be white; the bad news was it would be _too_ white.  No one would be flying out of this airport for a day or two.  Not even Rudolf could help in this mess.

Chris looked as horrified as the other people around him, and Zach wished he'd just invited Chris to stay at his apartment when it had become clear this was a possibility.  But it had been years since he and Chris had been that close, and a lot had changed.  Not that they hadn't fallen into a comfortable dynamic again the past few days, because they had.  Three straight days together, seeing a friend’s play, visiting the MOMA and Met together and going a little crazy Christmas shopping in the museum gift shops.   If anything, it had become _too_ comfortable.  They had clicked again, just like they had in the beginning of their friendship.  Zach had forgotten how easy it could be to just be with someone.  He had no idea what they’d even talked about, just knew that the conversation was always easy and never fake or stressful.  

Oh, and also?  Chris was beautiful.

He’d come dangerously close to inviting Chris to stay with him last night, even before the snow had started, just because he hadn’t laughed that much in years, and he felt that spark — the one he’d felt when they first met.  But that was perilous, as was forgetting the years and distance between them.  Besides, they were each expected at their respective family Christmas celebrations — his at Joe's and Chris' at his folk's house — and Zach really hadn't wanted to spend Christmas in New York where everything reminded him of Miles.  So he’d been good last night and sent Chris back to his hotel.  And this morning they’d braved the snow and stuck with the plan of flying to California together after a quick trip to Serendipity to get a cookbook for Chris’ sister.   And now they were in O’Hare with an angry mass of humanity, all fearing ruined Christmas plans. Theirs had been the last plane allowed to land; most of these people had a head start trying to find accommodations or even rental cars.  Though he didn't relish the idea of driving in near whiteout conditions, even if they had somewhere to go.

"Yeah, I'm here," Chris said into the phone.  A baby started crying, and Chris turned away from it, putting his finger in his other ear.  "Say that again?  It's really loud here."  

Zach moved closer to him, letting another unhappy family pass behind him toward the lines where people were waiting to get reticketed, despite not knowing when flights would start up again.  

"Hold on."  Chris turned to Zach.  "She's got something.  It's really hard to hear, but it sounds like just one, downtown.  But it's a suite."

"Take it.   _This,_ " Zach waved a hand at the room, "is going to get old quickly.  A suite downtown is a lot better than I expected."

"Sounds great, Val.  We'll take it.  And thanks!  Consider yourself in possession of an even bigger Christmas bonus.  Wait stop... Text me the address, it's too loud in here...  What?  Why?"  Zach watched Chris' face, trying to work out what was happening.  "Okay, we will.  Thanks, Val!"  He hung up and slipped his phone in a pocket.  "Let's go grab a cab before those are gone, too."

"What was that last part about?" Zach asked, taking his suitcases and following Chris.

"Oh, she said to stop somewhere on the way and get some Chinese or something to go.  The city center had a brownout, and restaurants might be closed."

That sounded foreboding.  Maybe the airport was a better choice after all.  Then a toddler threw himself on the floor crying, and Zach fled to follow Chris.

The cabbie was happy enough to make the detours as long as he was paid for his time while Zach dashed into the Thai restaurant and Chris hit the liquor store two doors down.  Soon they were driving through an eerily quiet historic part of downtown.  Traffic lights were blinking red, serving as stop signs for the few very slow cars still trying to navigate the roads.  They pulled up to a brick three-story with scaffolding in the front.

"This is a construction site," Zach said skeptically.  

Chris looked at his text.  "The address is right.  Oh, someone's coming out."

Sure enough, a woman was coming down the stairs of the stoop.  She waved at them through the window, and Chris opened his door.

"Mr. Pine, I'm Eleanor, Val's friend.  I have your room ready."

Zach shrugged when Chris looked back at him, and started collecting his things together.  Chris paid the cabbie, and they mounted stairs, pausing to brush snow off their coats before entering the antique building.

"Sorry, there's no elevator.  You're all the way at the top.  These floors are still a bit of a mess with the renovation," Eleanor said as they climbed the stairs, motioning toward newly painted rooms still awaiting furniture and draperies, by the look of it.  "The top floor was finished first, but some of the hardware for these other rooms was back-ordered,  so we plan to have the whole thing open after New Years.  We have the building two doors down, but that was already full when Val called.  I'm sorry."

"Hey, we're just happy to not be on the airport floor, right, Zach?"

"Right," he said, though this was not what he'd had in mind when he heard ‘downtown suite’.  He was pleasantly surprised when he reached the top floor and entered their room.  

It was large.  A fireplace glowed warmly in the center of one wall, built-in bookshelves flanking it and a small wingback sofa and table in front of it.  The shelves were full of leather-bound books, antique curios, and historic pictures of Chicago.  The far wall faced the street, and had french doors leading to a small balcony, covered with snow.   A narrow stained glass window stretched above it, full of jewel tones of deep reds and golds.  Zach wasn't really into antiques, but even he appreciated the beauty of the dark heavy wood paired mostly with neutral colors: taupe and cream wallpaper that looked almost graphic, dark grey upholstery on the sofa and desk chair, cream comforter and grey pillows on the one large, four poster bed...

"We were told it would be a suite," Chris said, cautiously.

Eleanor froze, clearly surprised.  "An _en suite,_ ” she said, looking back and forth between them.  “The bathroom is through there," she said pointing to a door, "not down the hall and shared, like it is with most of our B&B rooms."

Chris looked at him, eye's comically wide.

Zach could only laugh.  He was so fucked.


	2. The Perfect Room is Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This room was conspiring against Zach... and the universe was cruel.

Zach assured Eleanor they would be fine, that they had shared rooms in the past when on press tour (though it had been years ago, and Chris hadn’t been out then, or single...and there had generally been _two_ beds).  She told them that there had been some flickering lights, and that if the electricity did go out, the hall lights, smoke detector, and sprinkler system would be maintained by the emergency generator.  The fireplace and furnace were both gas and would be unaffected, but the system that blew the hot air through the building wasn’t on the emergency circuit.  It might get cold.

Still, the room was warm now, and the heat from the fireplace would help.  She left extra wool blankets folded at the foot of the bed and gave them her cell number in case they wanted her to bring anything over from the kitchen in the other building.  As if they were really going to order room service so she could tromp through the snow.

“We have supplies,” Zach assured her.  “In fact we should eat our food before it gets cold.”

She left them, and they spread the food out on the small table in front of the fireplace.  

“Oh my god, this is so good,” Chris said through a mouthful of Pad Thai, passing the container to Zach so he could dig in with his own chopsticks.  They had no plates and were eating out of cardboard containers like college students.  In complete contrast to their very civilized surroundings.  Zach enjoyed the dichotomy.  They did find some glasses by the bed, so they weren’t forced to drink the wine from the bottle.  And despite coming from a strip mall and being eaten out of take-out containers, the food was really good.

Chris tied the empty containers in the plastic shopping bag and set them in the hall to be thrown out later.  Zach leaned back and watched the snow coming down outside.  It was dark, but the streetlamps illuminated the flurries, creating an almost dizzying effect through the panes of the balcony door.  He sipped his wine contentedly, feet propped on the table and  warmed by the fire.  This really was much better than being at the airport.

“I think this might be my new favorite hotel room,” Chris said behind him as if reading his thoughts.  Zach craned around the wingback to see him pull a book off the shelf.  “They have all the Jane Austens, all the Brontës, Wordsworth, Byron, Fielding, Tennyson, Keats — oooh, I haven’t read this one.  Seriously, next time I need a break I just might get this room for a week and read by the fire.”

Zach snorted softly, but couldn’t hide the affection in his voice when he said, “You could afford a private island for a week, but you’d choose a room full of books.”

“A comfortable room, full of beautiful, leather-bound books.  And a fireplace,” he said, continuing to explore, opening cabinets.  “Oh my god it _is_ perfect.”

Zach just raised an eyebrow.  

Grinning wildly, Chris pulled a Scrabble board out of the cabinet.

An hour later they were halfway through the second bottle of wine and the Scrabble board was completely impacted.  Chris was down to three tiles, and while most of the game had been full of laughter and teasing, now there was a hush of concentration.  They were within four points of each other, so whoever went out first would win with the extra ten points.  Zach hoped that Chris would go out.  Zach only had a U and S left, and the only place he could find to play them was between an L and a T.  It felt too much like a confession.

Zach was staring at Chris’ hands as he moved the tiles.  They were large.  He’d forgotten how large.  And he should really not be thinking about them, or wondering if they were warm.

“Why are you staring at me?” Chris asked without looking up from his tiles.

“You’re like a puppy that never grew into its paws,” Zach said, regretting it instantly and setting the wine glass down before he got himself in serious trouble.

But Chris just barked a laugh.  “Yeah, well, they come in handy.”

Zach started.  Because that sounded a bit like innuendo, until Chris continued: “When I was first learning guitar, I never had a problem reaching the frets.  Aha!”

Chris laid all three tiles down, spelling SIZY.  “Sixteen plus ten for the last play, plus, what do you have?”

“Two,” Zach said, turning them over and smiling at Chris’ exuberance.

“So that’s twenty-eight for me and minus two for you.”

“You’ve won, Chris,” Zach chuckled.  “I’m sure it’s not a new phenomenon.”

“Against my arch-word-nemesis!”

“Your what?”

Chris shook his head and took a sip of wine.  “Ignore me.  It’s been a while since I’ve been challenged.”

“Now you’re just gloating,” Zach said, smiling as he started to put the tiles back in the bag.  

“You can always try to wipe this smirk off my face,” Chris challenged.

Zach looked at the clock.  It was only eight o’clock, and there was no tv.  Even if there were one, with impending power outages anything they tried to watch was likely to be interrupted.  And the peace was nice.  Actually interacting and talking with someone instead of vegging out beside them was really nice.

“Rematch?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re on!”

They changed first, swapping jeans and button-down shirts for sleep pants and hoodies.  When Zach entered the bathroom, the first thing he saw was a very large tub in the corner, easily big enough for two, with a small window above that afforded a view of the snow coming down even harder, if that was possible.  Zach just gaped at it, and then laughed at the cruelty of the universe.  Because if he and Chris were dating, this room would be perfect and romantic, and because they _weren’t,_ it was just mocking him.  And conspiring against him… making it seem impossible to _not_ want to seduce Chris.  And he wasn’t sure if he’d be shot down at this point if he tried.  There had been moments the last few days when Chris seemed to look at him just a little too intently, stand just a little too close.  More and more, when he thought back to the reasons he’d decided years ago that Chris was off limits… those reasons just didn’t apply anymore.  And the reasons he found Chris attractive were all the more compelling.  Especially after a few bad relationships to contrast just how easy it was to be with Chris, just how much he brought out Zach’s best qualities, just how well their tastes and humor matched.  They could be goofy together or serious, challenging or supportive.  Chris was the first one to tell him a straight opinion if he asked for it, but was always full of encouragement and sympathy when he was hurting.  And Chris was out now, to his friends at least.  Zach had even seen pap pictures of him with some guy a few months back and wondered if they were friends or dating.  And had never asked.  And why was that?  He looked at himself in the mirror, as if his reflection might know the answer.  He rubbed a hand over his face and finished getting changed.

Chris made fun of Zach’s colorful wool socks and toque, but later got a blanket from the bed to warm his own inadequately-covered feet, and Zach teased him about being a California boy.   This game was not as close, with Zach taking an early lead with the word QUEAZY, which Chris challenged, only to be horrified that the British spelling was accepted by the Scrabble Dictionary app.  

“I still say it’s wrong,” Chris grumbled goodnaturedly.

“You don’t get to change the rules of engagement mid-game,” Zach said, laying down COSMOS.  "We agreed to the Scrabble dictionary, as we always have."

“I know.  Anyway, it’s good for you to be ahead so you’re complacent when I press my advantage later."

"Just keep telling yourself that," Zach said, smiling as he chose more tiles.  Too many vowels.  Chris might get his break after all.

Zach poured more wine as Chris studied his letters, finishing off the bottle.  

"You going to tell me what happened?" Chris asked, still rearranging his tiles.  

"With what?"

Chris looked up and raised an eyebrow.

_Oh_.  Zach shrugged and rearranged his tiles.  "You were right about him."

"I never said anything about him," Chris said, confused.

"When you first met Miles, you were surprised how young he was."

"I... I didn't mean he was _too_ young.  I just... I don't know..."

"Yes, you did.  You didn't say it, because I didn't ask and you're too nice to impose.  But that's what you meant.  And you were right.  He needed more attention than I could give, and when he didn't get it, he cheated."

"Shit."

"Yeah."  

"What an idiot."

Zach snorted, feeling immediately better.  "Yeah."

Silence stretched as Chris made his play.  "I'm sorry, Zach.  I mean, I'm not sorry he's gone, since he was clearly not good enough for you, but I'm sorry he hurt you like that."

Zach shrugged again, warmth blossoming in his chest at Chris’ support.  "I've got enough distance from it now; it's okay.  We didn't have as much in common as I first thought.  And there can really only be one high-maintenance person in a relationship.  In a way, that made it easier to make a clean break."

"You're not high-maintenance."

"Several ex-boyfriends would argue that point."

"Okay, well maybe you're a little high-maintenance, but not in an annoying way."

"Again, several ex—"

"Zach," Chris said, covering Zach's hand with his own.

His palm was warm and dry.  

Zach looked up, startled, and Chris squeezed his hand briefly before letting go.  Zach swallowed, feeling the heat of Chris's hand linger on his skin.

And the room was plunged into darkness. 


	3. Wordplay as Foreplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A blackout doesn't have to end a Scrabble game, it just means they have to get a little closer to the fire and cozier with the blankets...

They moved the game to the floor, where the light from the fire could illuminate it enough to continue playing.   Using his phone as a flashlight, Zach moved the table and sofa out of the way and collected the pillows and extra blankets so they could make nest in front of the fireplace  around the board and stay warm.  He also texted Eleanor's cell to assure her they were okay, and she wrote back to ask if they wanted hot chocolate, on the house.  He tried to refuse, but apparently the kitchen was making cocoa for all the guests.  Ten minutes later there was a knock on the door, and Zach opened it to find a bundled up Eleanor handing him a laden tray and wishing them a good night, making them promise to call if they needed anything.  She was apparently taking over night management duties.

"They put it in a teapot with a cozy to keep it warm," Chris observed, turning the mugs over so they could pour.  "What's in the basket?"

Zach lifted the bottles in the rattan caddy so the labels could be seen.  "Peppermint schnapps, caramel liqueur, and a jar of marshmallows."

"This is the best hotel _ever_."

Zach snorted but had to agree.  They doctored up their hot chocolate — Zach with peppermint schnapps and Chris with that plus enough marshmallows to melt into a thick foam that coated his upper lip when he drank.  Making Zach want to kiss it off.  

"How about you?" he asked quickly, trying to cover his fluster as they settled back into the game.

"What about me what?  Oh, my love life?" Chris asked.

Zach nodded.  "Seems fair."

Chris nodded, eyeing his tiles again.  "You know Genevieve and I split back in June."

Zach placed his tiles on the board, nodding.  "Yeah, you called me after that one."

"Right.  You said you'd get me drunk next time we saw each other."

Zach chuckled and poured a bit more schnapps into Chris' mug.  

"Over the summer I dated this guy, Pieter, for a while," Chris said, taking a sip and humming in appreciation.

"Oh," Zach said, going for a casual voice and probably failing.  "How'd that go."

"It was good.  He's a writer for Universal and really funny.  That was the best part: I laughed a lot."

Zach tamped down a flare of jealousy.

"And the sex was great,"  Chris said, placing  his tiles on the board and grabbing the bag for replacements.

Zach reached for his mug and gulped the contents down before tallying up the score, ignoring the strange look Chris was giving him.

"But," Chris shrugged.  "I broke it off after a few months.  Because that's all there was.  I'd try to talk to him about something serious — current events or literature or philosophy —and he'd tell me to lighten up."

"That's a little offensive."

"That's what I said.  But he'd just change the subject.  And he never read.  Claimed that it messed with his own writing to have other people's words in his head.  And I bought it at first, but then I realized he watched TV and movies _all_ the time."

"I can't even imagine you with someone who doesn't read."

"Exactly.  Anyway, it was like there was no there there, and I just ended it.  I'm getting old.  A good lay isn't enough for me anymore.  I want the whole package, or I'd rather just have my hand."

Zach nodded and flushed slightly as he tried to concentrate on his tiles.  Chris was catching up, and Zach was definitely competitive enough to want to avoid losing twice.  Besides, it was a good distraction.  He couldn't tell if Chris was telling him this because they were renewing their friendship, or if he was being offered an opening, but he found himself really wanting to know what Chris' total package looked like.  And he should not be visualizing Chris getting a good lay with either Pieter or his hand, but both were now etched on his brain.

"Anyway, that's it.  No one since then."

"So, you're single."  Stating the obvious.  Smooth, Zach.  He quickly chose his move — FALCON — and grabbed the bag of tiles.  "That's the end of the tiles, by the way," he added, pulling out the last four.

Chris nodded, glancing at the score before turning his attention to the board.  "Yup."

It took Zach a moment to realize Chris was answering his question.  He smiled into his mug as he sipped the mint chocolate decadence.  "Good," he muttered, apparently not quite softly enough, because Chris' gaze met his, and the energy in the room shifted subtly.  

Chris looked at his tiles again.  "You're going to win."

"Probably," Zach agreed.

"I've got basically nothing left," he said, placing a T in a corner, forming IT in one direction and TO in the other.  Zach gave him the four points.

"Almost certainly, then," he said, placing two of his tiles on the board to form YAK.

Chris laughed.  "And you're pleased."

"A bit, yes."

"Good.  You would have been grumpy if I beat you twice."

"You're not trying to imply you're letting me win..."

"Hell, no!  I can deal with Your Royal Grumpiness if I have to.  These are words we’re talking about."

"Good man.  Go for the jugular," he said, putting down TOT.

"Somehow that lost its bite with your three-point play," Chris laughed.

"Well, I'm down to dregs, too," Zach said, taking another sip and realizing it was true for his cocoa as well. "Do you have another play?"

Chris' eyes flashed with humor and heat.  "Maybe."  He pulled his blanket more tightly around his shoulders, hunkering down to study the board.

After a moment, one hand came out from beneath the blanket to pick up two tiles.  "I'm out."

"Well done," Zach said, tallying the scores.  "I still win by fourteen points.  And the loser cleans up the board," Zach said, getting up to retrieve something from his suitcase.  And shit, it really was getting cold in the room.  The bed was far enough from the fireplace so as to be completely unappealing.  But he was pretty sure the comforter was down.  He grabbed it as well.

“What are you doing?” Chris asked as he sat down again, cross-legged.

“Giving you an early Christmas gift,” he answered putting a pair of thick wool socks next to the fire to warm them up.

“You’re giving me old fugly socks for Christmas?”

Zach raised an eyebrow.  “Well, if you don’t want them… but notice that my feet are fine.”

“I do, I want them,”  Chris said quickly.

“Good.  Now give me one of those dainty-ankled feet, Princess.  And don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about,” he added when Chris started to protest.  

Chris unfolded one on his legs and extended it from his blanket poncho.  The socks were cotton and thin, and Zach muttered under his breath about hapless Californians as he started rubbing at it vigorously, trying to add some heat by friction, studiously not looking at Chris to see his reaction.  Eventually they were no longer cold to the touch, and Zach rolled one of the warmed wool socks on over the thin one, eliciting an actual groan from Chris.  Zach looked up, and though Chris was essentially backlit in a warm glow, he was pretty sure he could see a blush.   Zach nodded, and Chris pulled that foot back under his blanket and extended the other one without asking.  As Zach repeated his ministrations, he stole a look at Chris’ face.  What he saw there made his dick twitch.


	4. The Christmas Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't how Zach planned to spend Christmas. He finds he has absolutely no desire to complain...

“Okay,” he said when Chris’ feet were both ensconced in colorful wool, “Help me spread this out and then get on top of it.”  He started moving the comforter so one edge was near the fireplace.  Chris helped and then sat on the edge.  “No, lie down,” Zach urged, moving the pillows so Chris could lay his head down.  “Now I’m going to take these away,” he said, tugging on Chris’ blankets.

“What, why?”

“Trust me, California.”

Zach laid down behind Chris and folded the other end of the down comforter over them both, like a sleeping bag.  Then he spread the heavy wool blankets over the top of both of them.  Chris now had the fireplace in front of him and Zach behind, not quite spooning him, and a bundle of blankets below and above.  Zack propped his head up on one hand so he could see the fire and at least a bit of Chris’ face.  He wasn’t sure what to do with his other hand, and ended up resting it on the outside of the covers, sort of between their bodies.

“Better?”

“Yeah.  Why are you so much warmer than me?”

“I know how to dress for winter?” Zach suggested.  “Though in your defense, you couldn’t have expected this.”

Chris quickly  — almost guiltily — turned his head to look at Zach, and then rested it back on the pillow again, snuggling down and a little back into Zach...which was fine in the shoulders and chest area and really dangerous further down, where Zach’s body was definitely beginning to notice the proximity of Chris’.  

Zach’s phone buzzed, and he reached blindly overhead until his hand made contact.

_News showing blackouts in Chicago.  Sure you’re okay?_

“It’s just Joe,” Zach said, typing.   _We’ve got a fire going.  We’ll be fine; don’t stress.  See you when I see you._

_Merry Christmas, little brother.  And to Chris._

_You too._

“Joe says ‘Merry Christmas’,” he said, putting the phone back down by his pillow.

“Is it?” Chris asked.

“Christmas?  In another thirty minutes or so.”

Chris was silent, and chewing his lip.  “I’m sorry you won’t be with your family.”

“That’s not your fault,” Zach said.

“It might be.”

“You think you caused a blizzard?” Zach asked skeptically.  “What, are you the Snow Miser now?  Oh, I know — you really _are_ Jack Frost, right?”

“Shut up," he laughed in spite of himself.  "No, just… do you believe in Christmas wishes?”

“What?”

“I made a wish.”

“To be grounded in Chicago?”

“Not exactly.  But I wished for more time.  With you.  And then all this happened.”  Chris rolled over to face Zach. And he was so close, and Zach was trapped against the folded comforter and couldn’t retreat, even if he wanted to.  Chris’ blue eyes were shimmering in the darkness and reflected firelight.  “I had so much fun the last few days… I wasn’t ready to let you go.  And I was afraid that if we got to California and went to our respective families, I wouldn’t see you again.  It might be another six months before we got to spend time together.  And I’d never know if… if you might want…”  Chris trailed off.

“If I might want what?” Zach whispered, afraid of disturbing this tentative openness.

Chris chewed his lip.  “Me.  Because… because you’re my whole package, you know?  We’re always good together… at least in everything we’ve tried so far.”  Chris’ eyes glanced down at his lips.  “You’re the only guy… the only _person_ I feel that way about.  And I know it’s crazy to hope for — we don’t even live on the same coast anymore — but I’m not getting any younger… I don’t have time to keep blowing it.  And I’m tired of being in the right place with the wrong person.”

Chris fell silent, waiting for Zach’s response.  And Zach could barely believe what he was hearing.  He lifted his free hand to trace along Chris temple, trying to convince himself that he was really allowed to touch the warm skin he found there.

“Sorry, my hand is cold.”

Chris shook his head slightly, dismissing the concern.  His eyes fluttered closed as Zach’s fingers traveled down to his cheek, thumb brushing along his lips.  Waiting.

“Yes,” Zach whispered.

Chris’ eyes opened again, questions clear in their depths.

“Yes, I want you,” Zach clarified.  “I have no idea how we will make it work, but there is something here between us that I haven’t found anywhere else.  If you feel it, too…” He leaned down and brushed his lips against Chris’.

For a moment the kiss was chaste and sweet.  Then Chris groaned and pulled him closer, and Zach tasted chocolate and mint, warmth and hope.  Chris tugged at him again, until Zach was lying on top of him, between Chris’ legs, and their erections were aligned.

“Fuck,” Zach whispered, rolling his hips slightly as he reveled in the proof that Chris really wanted him.  

“This okay?” Chris asked, and the tentative edge to his voice was in stark contrast to the firm way he’d positioned Zach.  

“Yeah,” Zach whispered, kissing Chris again.  “I’ve just spent so much of our friendship convinced you were straight or uninterested that this is a really fantastic and surprising turn of events.  I’m still catching up with the idea that you want me.”

Chris pulled off Zach's toque and threaded fingers into his hair, leading him down for another kiss.  “Zach, I’ve been half hard since you put ASTUTE on the board in front of ROUSE to spell AROUSE.  I’ve been fully hard since you put your socks on me, and I’ve been trying to figure out for _days_ how to tell you that I’d had more fun with you — more real sustained enjoyment — than with anyone in recent memory, nearly kissed you at least a dozen times, and can’t stop watching your ass when we—”

Zach’s mouth covered Chris', all hesitancy gone.  And it was so much better than anything he’d imagined.  Chris was so generous.  So willing, so demanding.  He met Zach kiss for kiss.  In this, as in everything else, it seemed, they were perfectly matched.  Zach finally broke the kiss, resting his forehead on Chris’, gasping.

“I want to taste every inch of your skin, but I’m afraid you’ll go hypothermic,” Zach whispered.

Chris snorted.   “Yeah, it would be a shame to freeze to death just as we figured this out.  Maybe just a little rearrangement of clothing,” he said, slipping his hands into Zach’s sleep pants, one hand pushing them down over his ass, the other gently wrapping around his cock.  

“Jesus fuck,” Zach gasped, tugging at Chris’ pants until his cock was free as well.  He lowered himself down again as Chris took them in hand together, whimpering.  “Chris, that feels…” He thrust gently into Chris hand and against the warm, firm, silky skin of his cock.

“Fucking amazing,” Chris finished, arching up.  “Zach…”

“I’ve got you,” he said, leaning on his elbows and threading both hands through Chris' hair, anchoring them both as they breathed each other's air. He rocked in long, smooth strokes.  And it was dry, and a little rough, and there were still what seemed like a dozen layers of fabric between most of their bodies — and probably numerous other reasons this shouldn’t feel like the best sex he’s had in forever.  But it didn't matter, because this was _Chris_ _,_ and just that was enough to make it amazing.  And his face… Jesus Christ, Chris’ _face_ as it transformed with pleasure was a thing of fucking beauty.  Art and poetry and the stuff of future wet dreams.  And this was going to work, he was sure of it.  Because if it could be this good when they were fumbling like high schoolers at a camp out, how much better would it be when they could really explore and enjoy each other?

“Zach… I’m not going to last."

“I know.  Don’t hold back.  God, you’re fucking gorgeous.  So beautiful.  Chris."  Chris' other hand slipped under Zach's shirt, roaming up his back and pulling him closer until they were kissing again.  Two points of intimate contact: wet tongues sliding against each other as their cocks rubbed deliciously.  He felt Chris tense.  "That's it.  I'm right here with you," he whispered into Chris' mouth.  "I'm right there."  And the sound that Chris made as he came — groaning Zach's name in a way that was simultaneously filthy and reverent — was enough to send him over the edge, too.

Long, gasping moments later, Zach lifted his face from where he'd buried it in Chris' neck and looked around the room.  It was remarkably unchanged.  Unlike himself.  He spied the tray of hot chocolate detritus, grabbed one of the napkins, and cleaned Chris up despite non-verbal protests.

"Shhhh.  That won't feel good once it cools," Zach explained, finishing up and then tossing the napkin.  He straightened both their pants and pulled the covers up around his shoulders, covering Chris as well as he could to protect him from the cold.

"Okay?" he asked, smoothing Chris hair back off his face.

"So good," he said, tilting his head in silent request for another kiss. Zach smiled and complied, earning a contented sigh.  "I hope it never stops snowing."  

Zach chuckled against his lips.  “I think we’re beyond the need for climatic intervention.   I’m pretty sure I want to spend my Christmas with you in that oversized tub, whether the electricity comes back and the planes can take off or not.  Speaking of,” he said looking at his phone briefly, “Merry Christmas, Chris.”  

“Hmmm, Merry Christmas, Zach,” he whispered into the kiss.  “I’m thinking I must have been _really_ good this year.”

Zach snorted.  “I’m glad you got your wish. But from now on, no sitting on strange men’s laps.”

“M’kay,” Chris whispered sleepily.  “He wasn’t as hot as you, anyway,”

“I should hope not.”  Zach watched, amused, as Chris fought drooping eyelids.  He kissed him once more and then moved off to the side, rolling Chris to face the fire so he could spoon him from behind — actually touching this time, chest to toe.  He wrapped an arm around Chris’ chest under the covers.  “Warm?”

“Perfect,” Chris whispered, snuggling deeper into Zach’s embrace, pressing his ass unashamedly into Zach’s groin.  

Yes, it was going to be a very good Christmas, and they were not going to venture anywhere near O'Hare.  And maybe, just maybe, Zach had been good this year, after all.  He nuzzled his nose against the nape of Chris’ neck, drifting to sleep to the sound of his breathing.

 

_Ten Years Later_

“I can offer you an upgrade, Mr. Quinto, over in our new building.  There’s a better view of the city.”

“No thank you.  It’s got to be that room.”

“It just hasn’t been renovated for a decade.  We have other rooms with jet tubs.”

“Melissa, is it?”

The redhead looked up.  “Yes, sir?”

“You’re new, so you probably aren’t aware of the fact that we _always_ get that room between Christmas and New Years, and we don’t mind that it doesn’t have much of a view, or that the new tubs have jets.  And we are, in fact, _intimately_ aware of the last time it was renovated.”  Zach winked at her, enjoying the startled response.

“Oh,” she said, looking at the computer screen again and apparently noting the special instructions this time.  “And you’d like a delivery of hot chocolate and peppermint schnapps each night at ten?”

“Please.  And if we don’t answer the door just leave it outside and we’ll collect it.”

“Very good, sir.  And I see the _Do Not Disturb_ note here as well.  I assure you we’ll do everything we can to make your stay pleasant, even if that’s mostly staying out of your way.”

“Thank you.”

Chris came in carrying the rest of the luggage after paying the cabbie.  Zach had hoped to already be upstairs waiting for him.  When Chris saw him still at the front desk he paused mid stride.

“Problem?”

Zach took the key Melissa offered and smiled at his husband.

“Nope.  Everything’s perfect.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, Pinto Beans. And especially Zilia!


End file.
